Estranged
by Zathara001
Summary: "Of all the brewpubs in all the world, you had to walk into mine." While escaping from a monster out of myth, Jacob Stone runs into someone he hasn't seen in twenty years.


DISCLAIMER: I own nothing to do with the Librarians or Leverage, sadly. If Dean Devlin or anyone who does own them wants anything of this, it's theirs.

"Of all the brewpubs in all the world, you had to walk into mine." While escaping from a monster out of myth, Jacob Stone runs into someone he hasn't seen in twenty years.

The thud of Jacob Stone's boots echoed off the midnight-empty Portland street. He risked a glance behind him, didn't dare slow his pace even though he saw no pursuit. Distance – he had to put distance between him and the … thing behind him.

Jacob turned a corner and found himself on a larger street, this one filled with businesses rather than homes. Most of those businesses were closed at this time of night, but even so, Jacob let his steps slow. No sense attracting too much attention and maybe putting innocents at risk.

No, what he needed now was a place to rest for a few minutes, recover his strength, and plan a strategy for dealing with the danger he'd just escaped.

Jacob's breathing had slowed by the time he caught sight of one of Portland's many brewpubs. It looked like just the place – public, but not too busy.

He slowed his pace even further, and by the time he opened the door to the brewpub, he didn't think anyone would suspect he'd been running for his life just a few minutes ago. He paused just inside the door, glanced around. Even at this hour on a Thursday night, almost half the tables were occupied.

 _Must be good_ , Jacob thought, and headed for the bar.

By the time he claimed an empty stool, a pint was waiting for him.

"Thanks." Manners compelled Jacob to smile at the dark-haired woman behind the bar.

"Let me know when you want another." She gave him a smile in return before gathering a tub of empty glasses and turning toward what Jacob assumed was the kitchen.

Jacob sipped cautiously, let the brew flow over his tongue. The beer was lighter than he'd expected, citrusy and refreshing after his run through streets that were still warm from the summer heat. Not something he would've chosen, necessarily, but enjoyable.

Jacob took another swallow and pulled out his cell phone. Maybe he could look up how to kill the creature without going back to the Annex or, worse, calling Jenkins.

It wasn't that he disliked the Annex's caretaker so much as the condescension in Jenkins' tone annoyed him. He'd had enough of that to last him several lifetimes even before he met the caretaker. While Jenkins had come around to a grudging respect for him, Jacob didn't enjoy spending time with him and he suspected the feeling was mutual.

The first step was to identify exactly what kind of creature he'd run into. He typed the facts into his smartphone - beautiful woman turning into a monster and eating people.

The large number of results surprised him, and with another sip of his beer, he started to scroll through the results.

Engrossed in his reading, Jacob didn't realize he'd finished his beer until he reached for the glass and found it empty. He debated whether to order another one of the same or try a different brew from the selection listed.

Before he'd decided, another glass appeared on the bar in front of him, followed by a wry observation:

"Of all the brewpubs in all the world, you had to walk into mine."

Jacob started at the familiar voice, looked up into a face identical to his own except, "You let your hair grow."

It wasn't the wittiest thing he could have said, Jacob thought, but he hadn't seen Eliot since he'd joined the Army. Surely he could be forgiven.

And he was, if Eliot's chuckle was any indication. "The better to confuse the bad guys. You finally got out of Oklahoma?"

"Yeah," Jacob began, then stopped, uncertain what to say to this brother that he still felt closer to than he did anyone else in the world, despite the years of their separation.

When they were kids, Eliot was the only one who would listen to him talk about art and history and architecture without judging him, without thinking him a wimp because he preferred intellectual pursuits to physical ones. But what would Eliot think of his job as a Librarian? Would that be too much even for Eliot to accept?

But Eliot was speaking before the silence stretched too long.

"Good," he said. "I always figured you would, however long it took."

"Too long," Jacob muttered and took a swallow of his beer.

"I heard you took over the family business."

"Yeah, for a while," Jacob said. "But my heart wasn't in it, and it was too far gone to save. For me to save," he corrected himself.

"For anybody to save," Eliot said. He reached behind the bar, pulled out a beer – bottled, Jacob noticed – then came around to take the stool beside Jacob's.

"Like you'd know." Jacob winced at the accusation in his tone. Eliot had gotten out of town long before he had by enlisting, and that wasn't a choice Jacob had ever considered. There was no point taking that out on his twin, not after so many years.

"I followed the news, as best I could," Eliot said mildly. "And later – well, I had a friend check into it. What're you doing now?"

Jacob laughed. "You wouldn't believe me. You said this is your place?"

"Kinda," Eliot replied. "Friend owns it. I'm the chief cook."

"Cook? You?"

Eliot gave him a sidewise glare, but before he could respond, a woman's voice came from behind them.

"Eliot, why are there two of you?"

Jacob turned in his stool to see a slender blonde frowning at them – no, at him. Was this Eliot's girlfriend?

"That's what happens with twins, Parker."

"You have a twin? And you didn't tell us? That hurts, man." The observation came from a tall black man standing behind the woman Eliot had called Parker.

"'S okay," Jacob said. "He didn't tell me about you, either. I'm Jacob."

"Alec Hardison," the black man offered his hand. "This is Parker."

Jacob shook Hardison's hand, then turned to Parker, who was still frowning at him. After a moment, he let his hand drop.

"Why don't we get a table?" Hardison asked to cover the not-quite awkward silence. "Unless you want to catch up with your bro without us."

"As long as we don't start exchanging embarrassing stories," Eliot said. "You hungry?"

"Don't go to any trouble," Jacob protested.

"It's a brewpub," Eliot said. "Kitchen's open. Amy," he added to the bartender, "soup and sandwiches, please."

"Two of your usual?" Amy asked.

Eliot glanced at Jacob, grinned. "Yeah. See if he can handle it."

"Anything you can dish out," Jacob countered, the old competition coming back easily.

"Monte Cristo for me," Hardison said, "and -"

"Cereal for Parker," Amy finished, setting two more beers on the bar. Hardison picked them up, offered Parker one, and then led the way toward a table in the corner.

"Cereal?" Jacob asked, grabbing his glass to follow. "In a brewpub?"

"It's Parker," Eliot said affectionately, as if it were the only explanation necessary. Maybe for him it was, Jacob thought.

"What brings you to Portland?" Hardison asked.

"Work," Jacob answered.

"No oil rigs in Portland," Eliot observed.

"Thank God," Jacob blurted. Hardison gave him a curious look, and Parker was still studying him and Eliot, as though she were trying to pick out all the little differences between them.

"I got a new job," he explained. "We were based in New York, but we have a branch in Portland."

Hardison appeared to accept that, and Parker was as quiet as she'd been since that first question. Jacob started to hope that Eliot would let that information lie without pursuing it.

That hope grew as Amy brought a tray to their table, set the meals around. Parker took her cereal dry, Jacob saw, but any comment he might have made faded from his thoughts before the enticing aroma of the soup in front of him.

"What is this?" he asked.

"Pesto chicken panini and minestrone," Amy answered. "Anything else?"

"We're good," Eliot said. "Thanks."

Jacob took a bite of his sandwich, felt his eyes widen at the explosion of flavors on his tongue. "Not your standard brewpub fare."

"Man, Eliot don't do standard anything," Hardison said with a laugh.

Of course Eliot waited until Jacob had a mouthful of soup to ask, "What kind of job?"

Jacob took advantage of the few seconds it took for him to chew the vegetables and swallow to try to gather his thoughts. What should he say? The truth? How much? Or should he lie?

But lying to his twin didn't sit well with him – it felt too much like lying to himself, and he tried not to do too much of that.

The truth, then – at least a little.

"I'm a Librarian."

"A librarian?" Hardison looked between him and Eliot. "Seriously?"

"Nothing wrong with libraries," Eliot said without looking at his friend. Instead, he was focused on Jacob. "You like the work?"

"It's interesting," Jacob said, and that was a lie of understatement. But how could he tell his twin that in his first few days on the job he'd recovered King Arthur's crown, fought the Minotaur, and even met Santa Claus?

"I have a question."

Jacob glanced up at Parker. She was starting at him with an intensity that was almost unnerving. "Sure."

"What kind of library has a headquarters in New York and a branch in Portland?"

There it was – the question he'd hoped wouldn't be asked. Jacob gave her his best good-old-boy grin. "A very unusual one."

Parker frowned at him, then glared at Eliot. "Why is he smiling at me like you smile at the marks?" She transferred her glare to Jacob. "Are you trying to con me?"

"Easy," Hardison said. "Nobody's conning anybody. Right?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Jacob turned to his twin for help, only to see that Eliot was frowning, too.

"No cons," Eliot said. "But it's a good question. What kind of library?"

Jacob's stomach clenched. He'd have to lie now. Or – maybe, just maybe, he could deflect.

"I'll tell you," he said, "if you'll tell me what all this talk about cons and marks is about."

Eliot glanced at his friends, frowning, and for a moment Jacob was certain he'd won. But then Hardison made a gesture that clearly said, _It's your call,_ and Parker gave the briefest of nods.

Eliot took a swallow of his beer, then met Jacob's gaze. "You want the long version or the short version?"

 _Crap_. His bluff had been called. Jacob bit back a sigh. The least he could do was give in with good grace. And hope his twin didn't think he was crazy. "Short version."

"We –" Eliot's glance included Hardison and Parker –"help people who've been wronged by powerful people who don't care about the fallout of their actions. Sometimes – most of the time – we have to work outside normal channels to do it."

"Think Robin Hood," Hardison said. "Only with more range and lots better gear."

"Maybe I should've asked for the long version," Jacob muttered.

"No take-backs," Eliot told him. "Your turn."

Jacob blew out a breath. "More of an archive than a library," he said. "We collect and catalog rare books and other items with unusual provenance."

"Unusual provenance?" Parker repeated, looking more interested than she had since her cereal had arrived. "Black market?"

"Ah – no," Jacob stammered, unsure why that would be her first assumption. He searched for a better explanation, settled on, "Just unusual items, things that have legends and stories around them."

Parker lost interest at that explanation, but Hardison sat forward.

"Wait – a library – you mean _the_ Library?" His gaze was alight, but whether with passion or insanity, Jacob wasn't certain.

"There are lots of libraries," Jacob said cautiously.

"But there's only one _Library_."

"You're making less sense than you usually do, Hardison," Eliot said.

With a frustrated noise, Hardison took a breath and started again. "It's rumors, mostly, like conspiracy theories. There's talk about a library – _the_ library – that holds all kinds of ancient and magical things."

"There's no such thing as magic," Eliot said, then his mouth thinned as he looked at Jacob. "Someone con you into believing this crap?"

"It's not a con," Jacob said. "It's real."

"It's real." Hardison sat back weakly in his chair, his eyes glazed over.

Jacob had to grin, then he caught sight of his twin's expression and sobered again. The habit of honesty was still too strong between them, despite twenty years of separation, and Jacob knew he'd have to tell Eliot everything.

"More than the Library is real," Jacob said. He leaned toward his twin and lowered his voice, even though he was certain no one outside their table would hear. "Magic is real."

"Seriously?" Hardison asked, and now he looked like his entire world had been turned on its ear. Jacob knew the feeling.

"What about Santa?" Parker asked, her excitement making her look almost childlike. "Is Santa real?"

"I met him last Christmas," Jacob said without thinking.

Parker squealed and shoved Hardison in the arm. "Told you!"

But Jacob was still watching Eliot, waiting for his twin's reaction. Eliot had always supported his choices – sometimes, Eliot had been the only one who did – but would he support this? Would he believe this? Despite the years between them and the obviously different lives they'd chosen, Jacob didn't want this to be the thing that broke them. He didn't want anything to break them.

Hardison rubbed his arm and looked at Eliot. "You believe this?"

Eliot finished the last of his soup. "Pa always said Jake had his head in the clouds, too full of book learnin' to understand the real world." He looked at Jacob. "He'd've whipped you for saying that."

"He would," Jacob agreed. There was no sense denying it.

"Thing is," Eliot said, and his attention had turned back to Hardison, though Jacob had the feeling his twin was speaking as much for him as for Hardison, "he was wrong. Jake always was the studious one, but he's the most grounded man I know. If Jake says magic's real, I believe him."

Jacob let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Eliot's support still meant everything to him, even after all the years separating them.

Then Eliot looked at him with an intensity that almost made him flinch. "That why you were running, earlier? Something magical after you?"

Jacob swallowed. "You saw me?"

"Didn't realize it was you," Eliot said. "I was on the roof, taking a break, saw you come around the corner. When you started this way, I came back downstairs in case things got interesting."

"Interesting." Jacob turned the word over in his mind, instinctively not liking the connotations. "What did you do for the Army, again?"

"It wasn't just the Army," Eliot replied, which wasn't an answer. His expression told Jacob not to ask questions about it just now. "Who – or what – was after you?"

Jacob blew out a breath. No one had called him crazy, so he might as well lay it all out. "An empusa."

"Gesundheit," Hardison muttered.

"What's an empusa?" Eliot asked.

"A creature from Greek myth. They take female form to seduce men and then turn into monsters and eat them. I was trying to figure out how to stop them when you showed up."

"At least you get lucky first," Hardison said. Jacob knew it was meant as a joke, but still he felt himself blushing. He looked away from Hardison – and into his twin's grin.

"Good for you, bro. So how do you stop them?"

"I don't know," Jacob said. "Couldn't find anything on the local university site. I was trying to access the Bodleian and Sackler Libraries online, but your wi-fi sucks."

"Excuse you?" Hardison looked mortally offended. "We have the best wi-fi in Portland, maybe even the world. It's that crap-ass phone you're using."

Hardison pulled a phone from his pocket and started tapping buttons. Jacob didn't know enough about cell phones to identify the model, but he did see that it had a full keyboard.

"Man, are you sure this empusa is such a big deal?" Hardison asked after a few minutes. "Says here they run screaming at the sound of insults."

"According to Philostratus," Jacob agreed. "He was wrong."

"Did you try really good insults, not just _your mother stank of elderberries_?"

"I tried a lot more than that," Jacob said, and felt the weight of his twin's gaze on him. He kept his attention focused on Hardison.

More minutes passed, during which the bartender, Amy, cleared the remains of their meals and refreshed their drinks. Between the unplanned reunion with a brother he hadn't seen in two decades and the oddity of both their lines of work, not to mention the subject Hardison was currently researching, the silence should have been awkward, Jacob thought.

It wasn't, at least not at first. But the longer Hardison worked, the more the silence weighed. Jacob knew he was partly to blame for that - there were so many questions he wanted to ask his twin, but he wasn't about to do so in front of two people who were complete strangers to him.

"Did Eliot really take home economics in high school?" Parker asked. The question startled Jacob, not just because of the content, but also that the blonde who had been so quiet was the one to ask it.

"He really did," Jacob answered. "Mostly because Ms. Bigelow was hot."

"Of course she was," Hardison muttered. Then he finally looked up from his phone. "You hadda pick one of the most obscure creatures in all mythology to try to kill?"

"She tried to kill me first," Jacob protested.

"Yeah, well, whatever, man. Seems she's a demigoddess, daughter of Hecate and - someone else. Legends aren't clear. Anyway, later she's referred to as a type of spirit or monster, along with Mormo, and Lamia."

Jacob nodded. That much he'd found before Eliot had spoken to him. "But how do you kill one?"

"I'm not finding anything specific on that," Hardison said. "An empusa shows up in Aristophanes -"

" _The Frogs_ , right," Jacob said. "But Dionysus and his slave just frightened her off."

"And that's the best reference I'm finding," Hardison concluded. "But you do know that empusae and lamiae are similar to vampires, right? There's evidence they grew out of the same earlier legends."

"So maybe the same ways of killing a vampire will kill an empusa," Jacob said. "So I need a stake - ash, oak, or hawthorn."

"Oregon's got species of all three," Eliot said. "Two of 'em on this street alone."

"Then I need to get to work." Jacob started to get up, paused. "What do I owe you for the meal and the beers?"

If it were possible, Hardison looked even more offended than he had when Jacob insulted the brewpub's wi-fi.

"Dude, you're Eliot's brother. Just tip Amy, and we're good."

"Thanks." Jacob dropped a couple of bills on the table, stood. "Great to meet you two, but I've got an empusa to kill."

"We've got an empusa to kill," Eliot said.

Jacob frowned at his twin in time to see Eliot exchanging a glance with the other two. He followed Eliot's gaze, saw Hardison nod with resignation, and Parker - to the extent he could read her at all, she seemed more encouraging than anything else.

Almost before those impressions had registered, Eliot was shifting his gaze. Jacob snapped his back to his twin. "What do you mean _we_ , _kemo sabe?_ "

"We. Two letters, one syllable. Figured a bookworm like you would know what it means." Eliot, too, was getting to his feet.

"I've been doing the job just fine without you."

"I'm sure you have." There was no mocking, no doubt, in Eliot's tone. "But have you killed a person before?"

Jacob hesitated, and apparently that was all the answer his twin needed, because Eliot was speaking again.

"And not just any person, but a girl - pretty, probably - and one you've been with, too. Are you sure you won't hesitate when the time comes? 'Cause I'm not, and I don't want to lose my baby brother because he was too stupid to accept some help where it's offered."

"Baby brother?" Parker asked. "I thought twins were born at the same time."

"One right after the other," Eliot said. "I came first, and he came twelve minutes later."

"Only because you shoved me out of the way," Jacob muttered.

"Had to be sure it was safe," Eliot replied, and that made both Parker and Hardison grin. Jacob shook his head. They knew his twin well, it seemed.

Then Eliot was looking at him. "Thought you wanted this thing dead. You comin' or what?"

Jacob smirked. "You don't know where she is."

Hardison snorted again. "Take me all of ninety seconds to track where your phone's been all night."

"Yeah, but you don't have my phone."

"No, I don't," Hardison agreed, then nodded at Parker. "But she does."

"What?" Jacob's hand went to the pocket where he carried his phone, found nothing. He looked at the blonde, who was holding his phone in one hand and popping cereal into her mouth with the other.

Time to surrender to the inevitable, Jacob decided. He could only hope for a little grace when he did. "All right, all right. If I agree to let you help, do I get my phone back?"

#

"You have interesting friends," Jacob observed as he whittled an oak branch to a point. Another one just like it lay beside him, and across from him, Eliot did the same to a pair of hawthorn branches.

"The best," Eliot responded, and though it came immediately, Jacob could hear the sincerity in his twin's tone.

"I think I get Hardison," Jacob mused. "But Parker's … different."

Eliot laughed. "Twenty pounds of crazy in a five-pound bag. That's what I said the first time I worked with her."

The choice of words caught Jacob's attention. "Worked with, not met?"

"Kinda both," Eliot replied. "We'd crossed paths before, but I only ever got a glimpse of her diving off a roof."

"Diving off …?" Jacob shook his head. "I shouldn't ask."

"No, you probably should. You just don't know what to ask."

Oh- _kay_. That was a tone he'd only ever rarely heard from his twin, but it was one he wouldn't forget, couldn't forget. That was the tone that said, _I have something really serious to talk about, but I'm lousy at talking, so help me out, bro._

The first time Jacob had heard that tone, Eliot had told him there was no Santa Claus - only now, twenty-odd years later, Jacob knew there was.

The second time Jacob had heard that tone, Eliot had given him a pack of condoms before he took Nicole Sullivan to the homecoming dance. "Be real careful," Eliot had said. "That one's trouble, and not the fun kind."

The third time Jacob had heard that tone, Eliot had told him he was enlisting. "It's a lousy birthday present, but I've gotta do this."

What, Jacob wondered now, could bring that tone out of his twin a fourth time? There was only one way to find out, and he met Eliot's gaze without flinching.

"So pretend I do know what to ask, and that I'm asking. What's your answer?"

Eliot folded his Leatherman knife before meeting Jacob's eyes. Jacob waited, as open as he could be given that he didn't know what to expect.

"I've done things - bad things, Jake."

"In the service?"

"It's the things I did after I left the service I'm talking about. Things I'll never be clean of." Eliot swallowed. "I'm not that kid who left home with God in his heart and a flag on his sleeve. I'll never be him again."

"Those bad things," Jacob said slowly. "Did you do them for good people to bad people?

"The other way around."

Jacob blew out a breath. Yeah, that definitely deserved the, _I have something really serious to talk about, but I'm lousy at talking, so help me out, bro,_ voice.

Eliot was watching him with a guarded expression, more closed off than Jacob had ever seen him be. Of course, they'd been separated a lot of years. How much of his twin didn't he know anymore?

"Why are you telling me this?"

"We're identical twins," Eliot replied. "People might think you're me and …. I didn't worry much about it while you were still in Oklahoma. But this new job you got, you needed to know."

Jacob bristled. "You trying to scare me back home?"

"Hell, no," Eliot answered without hesitation, and Jacob couldn't doubt the vehemence in his twin's tone. "You make your own choices, just like I did. But you need to know what's out there - _who's_ out there - that might come after you."

"Fair enough. I have been warned." Jacob injected a bit of lightness into his tone, to counteract the weight that had descended during this conversation. He'd have a lot to think about later, back in the safety of his room at the Annex, but right now, he needed to comfort his brother more than he needed to ponder the dark world his twin lived in.

Eliot's lip quirked in answer, and then the mood shifted completely as Eliot examined the stakes they'd carved.

"They'll do," he said, then looked up at Jacob. "Let's go kill us a monster."

#

Dawn was lightening the sky by the time Jacob led Eliot back to the apartment building where the empusa had taken him when he'd left the bar with her.

With _it_ , he corrected himself. Emma was an _it_ , a monster, not a beautiful girl who'd made him feel ten years younger than he actually was.

Jacob chuckled to himself. Seemed like Eliot's concern wasn't entirely misguided.

"What?" Eliot asked.

"Just glad you're here," Jacob replied.

Eliot smirked. "She was that good, huh?"

"Empusa may be related to legends of vampires," Jacob said, deliberately ignoring his twin's taunt, "but I doubt we'll get lucky enough to find her in a coffin of her native earth."

"Why's that?"

"It was still daylight when she came into the bar."

Eliot chuckled. "You did get lucky."

"With a monster who tried to kill me. I wouldn't call that lucky."

"You're still alive," Eliot pointed out, and Jacob couldn't argue with that.

"Here," Jacob nodded at the building he'd stopped outside."

"Wait here."

Eliot was gone before Jacob could form a reply. Jacob blinked, replaying his twin's movements in his mind's eye. It wasn't that Eliot had actually disappeared, Jacob decided, it was that he'd moved so quickly and quietly it seemed like he'd disappeared.

Then Eliot was rejoining him from the opposite direction – he'd circled the building, Jacob realized.

"Looks clear," Eliot reported. "No security."

"Third floor," Jacob said.

"You up for a few stairs?"

Jacob grinned. "I'm not that out of shape."

"Keep up if you can."

Okay, maybe he was that out of shape, Jacob silently admitted after the second story. He wasn't exactly panting for breath, but Eliot didn't appear even slightly winded.

Still, he managed to stay only a couple of steps behind his twin as they climbed the final flight of stairs – that Eliot slowed down to minimize the echo of their footsteps probably had more to do with that than Jacob cared to admit.

Eliot paused on the landing, his hand on the doorknob. "Which apartment?"

"Three oh nine," Jacob answered.

Eliot eased the door open, gave a quick glance in each direction, and then let the door close silently. "Hallway's clear. How do you want to play this?"

"Me?" Jacob couldn't keep the surprise from his voice. "You're the one with military training."

"And I got squat for intel on this job," Eliot retorted. "You've been here before, seen the apartment, seen the target. How do we play this? Other than quiet."

"Quiet. Yeah." Jacob thought quickly. "How about simple and straightforward? I go knock on the door and pretend I don't remember her trying to kill me, maybe say I forgot my watch or my phone or something. That gets us in the door, and we play it from there?"

"That's simple, all right. Ready?"

"Ready enough," Jacob answered.

He preceded Eliot through the door and down the hallway to apartment 309, checking that the stakes he carried were secure in his belt beneath the jacket he wore. Presumably, Eliot was doing or had done the same. God forbid any of Emma's – the empusa's – neighbors happened to step outside their apartments and see two men with stakes in their hands. That would blow "quiet" right out of the water.

Outside the door to 309, Jacob glanced at Eliot. His twin nodded once, his expression one of grim determination. Jacob couldn't help wondering what bad things his twin might be remembering in the moment.

But they were here to do a job, and Jacob straightened his shoulders, then rapped on the door.

Moments later, it opened, revealing the woman he'd met the night before – Emma. Her flaming red hair swirled around her shoulders, accenting the ivory color of the nightgown she wore.

"Jacob, you naughty man," she said in that voice that sounded like honey on silk. "I woke and you were gone. I hope you brought coffee as an apology."

"Actually, I think I left my watch," Jacob said. "Have you seen it?"

Emma looked past him and answered as if he hadn't spoken. "Oh, no, you brought something better."

"Better?" Jacob asked.

"Did you think only men have twins fantasies?" Emma asked. "Silly man. Come in, both of you."

Jacob glanced back at Eliot, met his twin's answering nod, and stepped inside, wary. Was Emma – the empusa – so secure in her lair that she didn't care who she invited in? Or was she, maybe, just hungry enough to be off balance?

And did it matter, since they'd achieved their goal of getting into her apartment before things got ugly?

Jacob heard the door click shut behind him, then the quieter click of the lock being turned – Eliot's doing, no doubt.

This time there was no seduction, no playing. This time, Emma barely waited until the door was closed before she lunged for him.

Jacob would've thought Emma was throwing herself at him, glad to see him again, except that when she smiled, her lips pulled back to reveal ragged fangs that looked entirely too deadly for Jacob's taste.

Instinctively, his hands came up to fend her off, to protect himself, and he slammed back into the door when her body collided with his.

Shouldn't he have hit flesh? Shouldn't Eliot have been behind him?

But no, Eliot was behind _her_ , his expression grim and his eyes devoid of all emotion as he grappled for a hold on this improbably strong, lithe young woman.

Later, Jacob wouldn't be able to recall exactly what had happened, or how, but Eliot wrestled Emma away from him, somehow trapped one of her arms behind her back.

"Now," Eliot snapped, and Jacob fumbled for the stakes beneath his jacket.

His hand closed around one, he raised it - and then Emma was just Emma again.

Jacob hesitated.

It was all the opening Emma needed. She jerked free of Eliot's grip, somehow, and whirled to deliver a backhand that sent Eliot staggering into the wall.

Then she faced Jacob again.

"I'll give you a quick death, since you brought me another," she said. "I hope he's as much fun as you were."

She lunged again, and Jacob raised the stake.

Emma's mouth opened again, as the stake pierced flesh, and Jacob thought she might have screamed, but a strong male hand wrapped around her jaw from behind and jerked.

Bone snapped, and Emma's head fell forward loosely as the stake scraped past bone and sank home.

Eliot lowered the body to the ground, then drove another stake through Emma's eye with clinical precision.

"Why?" Jacob managed to ask.

"Covering all bases," Eliot replied. "The heart for vampires, the brain for zombies. So Hardison says."

Jacob sank to the floor on his haunches, panting more from shock than actual exertion. In dying, the thing that had been a beautiful young woman revealed its true nature – death-green skin, fangs, the hollowness of a body lacking blood coursing through its veins.

His hands were shaking, and Jacob fought to still them. Across the body from him, Eliot spoke softly.

"It ain't like a bar fight. You get into a bar fight, you throw a few punches, let off some steam, and buy a round for the guy next time. You don't mean to kill him – hell, you don't even mean to hurt 'im much, just get rid of the tension. This ain't like that. This was to the death, kill or be killed, and it's not easy. It shouldn't be easy."

"You get used to it?"

"No," Eliot answered. "And that's a good thing. But you get to where you can accept the necessity of it, and then you move on. Somehow."

"Somehow," Jacob repeated.

"Hey, at least yours wasn't human. All of mine were."

"Until now."

"Yeah."

After a few more deep breaths, Jacob looked at his twin. "What now?"

"Now, we pull the stakes out and get out without being seen."

"Why pull out the stakes?"

"Because our fingerprints and DNA are all over them. No sense making it easy for the cops."

Cops.

In his zeal to kill a monster, Jacob hadn't even thought about conventional police and what they might have to say about his activities today. What was he supposed to do if they connected him to this death and started asking questions? Panic made his heart race and his breathing come fast and shallow.

A hand on his shoulder brought his focus back to his twin. "Take it easy," Eliot said. "Breathe. C'mon, slow. In. Out."

When his breathing and his heart rate had calmed, Eliot asked, "Anyone see you when you came in with her last night?"

"Not that I know of."

"Okay. If someone saw you leaving with her, and you're questioned, tell as much of the truth as you can – that you came back here with her, but didn't stay the night. Tell them you spent the rest of the night catching up with your brother at his brewpub. Plenty of witnesses saw us there."

"And saw us leave," Jacob said. "Plus there's video, right?"

"Don't worry about the video," Eliot said. "It'll show whatever Hardison wants it to show."

"He's that good?"

"He's that good. I swear."

Jacob had to believe Eliot, and not just because they were brothers. There was absolute certainty in Eliot's tone, his eyes, his expression, and beneath that certainty there was the protective streak Eliot had always shown.

"You'll be fine," Eliot told him. "There's no way I'll let this come back on you."

Jacob swallowed past a dry throat, and nodded once. "I'll see if she has something to carry the stakes out in."

Without waiting for an answer from his brother, Jacob got up and stumbled into the kitchen.

"Don't leave prints," Eliot warned. "Grab a paper towel or something to cover your fingers."

Jacob followed Eliot's instructions as though in a daze. He knew Emma – the empusa – wasn't human, but she'd looked human until the very end, and that had thrown him. He knew she was evil, knew she'd tried to kill him, knew that killing her was the right thing to do, and still his stomach twisted and turned, and he feared that the panini and minestrone he'd had earlier would taste much worse coming out than they had going in.

He found a reusable shopping bag large enough to hold all four stakes, took it back to his twin. With practiced efficiency, Eliot removed the stakes, wiped them on the silky gown Emma – the empusa – wore, and dropped them into the shopping bag, the other two stakes following quickly.

Then they were strolling out of the apartment and down the stairs, Eliot in the lead. Jacob wanted to run, to get as far away from the reminder of what he'd done as he could, but Eliot kept their pace to a walk.

"Don't run," Eliot told him. "Bad enough they might remember twins, don't make it worse by running."

"You don't have to stay with me," Jacob said.

"Yeah, I do," Eliot replied. "You're shaken, I get it. Killing's never easy."

"You make it look easy." Too late, Jacob recognized the accusation in his tone, but Eliot appeared to take it in stride.

"I've just got more practice hiding the effects," Eliot said. "Doesn't mean I don't remember every person I ever killed, and it doesn't mean I'm not going to have nightmares about it later."

Eliot's matter-of-fact tone was oddly comforting, despite the grim nature of their discussion.

"You'll be okay," Eliot added. "It'll take a while, and you may not believe me, but you'll be okay. Never the same as you were before, but okay."

"You sure?" Jacob asked, and if there was a plaintive note in the question, neither he nor his twin would ever acknowledge it.

"Yeah, I'm sure. At least you know that thing really was evil and needed to die," Eliot advised. "It's not much comfort, but it's more than I've had sometimes."

Jacob nodded, and Eliot fell silent as they turned their steps back toward the brewpub.

When he'd first arrived at the Library with Cassandra and Ezekiel, Flynn had given them a tour and answered some of their questions.

"Vampires are real," Flynn had said, "but Dracula is not. I killed him."

Jacob had accepted that as a fact, just a statement, empty of any emotion. Now, in the wake of killing Emma - a monster much like Dracula - Jacob felt the truth of the words differently, as though they were burned into his heart and soul.

 _I killed her._

Did Flynn feel the weight of that knowledge, that act, the way Jacob did and the way Eliot seemed to? Jacob didn't know, and resolved to talk to Flynn about it when he could.

By the time they reached the door to the brewpub, Jacob had regained some equilibrium.

"Breakfast before you go?" Eliot asked. "Though it's more like brunch by now."

Jacob shook his head. "I should get back, see what's waiting for me today."

"Hopefully not another monster."

"Frequently another monster," Jacob corrected ruefully. "Or some magical book or device that's causing havoc somewhere."

"Sounds like an interesting life," Eliot said.

Jacob gave him a sidewise grin. "Better than Oklahoma."

"Not setting the bar real high there, bro."

That made Jacob laugh, and the laughter lightened the weight he'd felt since they killed the empusa.

"Stay in touch," Eliot said.

"I should be telling you that."

"You know where to find me." Eliot jerked his head toward the brewpub.

"Yeah," Jacob said. "I do. Good to see you again."

"You, too." Eliot clapped him on the shoulder, but Jacob just shook his head.

"Not getting away with that," he said, and pulled his twin into a hug.

Eliot held him tightly, as though one hug could encompass the whole of their fraternity, from the womb until this moment.

And somehow, it did.


End file.
